The Basics: Fake journalist Borat travels to real America for a fake documentary playing tricks on real people (society dinners, rodeo crowds, drunk frat boys, Pentecostal church services), who, in turn, frequently call real security or even realer police or just attack him. All in the service of satirizing "cultural learnings." And then, off camera, the production somehow manages to get them all to sign release forms so that the movie doesn't have to pixel out anyone's face. That's the part I'm still scratching my head over.

What's the Deal? I could try to write something clever here, but I'm too busy being in awe over how incredibly, screamingly funny and brutally on-point this movie is. You will have to hoist your jaw up off the floor on several occasions. And unless you have particularly wild parents, don't bring them to see it.

Best Part: When he wrestles his producer and "operator of camera machine" Azamat (Davitian). Naked. And then they crash a business convention banquet. Naked. And yes, this is a spoiler, but it doesn't really matter because nothing, not even telling you about it, can prepare you for what you'll see.

What's Fake: Luenell, the hooker that Borat employs to help him destroy a high-society dinner. She's an actress.

What's Real: Anderson, showing up as herself. And there's no way she couldn't have been in on the joke. And if she wasn't, then she's the best sport in the world.

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